


Not What We Expected

by CapsicleRogers



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-15 13:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapsicleRogers/pseuds/CapsicleRogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Tony find themselves in the wrong beds after a night of too much drinking. There is much confusion and nobody’s really very happy about the switch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not What We Expected

“You’re not so bad, Barton. We should do this again sometime.”

Clint Barton, sometimes known as Hawkeye, nodded enthusiastically, attempting an agreement that ended up sounding more like a gargle and succeeding only in throwing off his already precarious balance. Tony Stark, equally known as Iron Man and self-proclaimed genius, tightened his grip around the young archer’s shoulders and gave a loud laugh. They were celebrating – or rather, everybody had been celebrating the team’s latest triumphs over evil and maniacally demented, but only Clint, Tony, and Thor had managed to continue the party so late into the night and even then, only with the benefits of too much alcohol. Eventually, even the god of thunder had very suddenly passed out on the large sofa in the main sitting room, and Clint and Tony had taken the opportunity to head to bed themselves. Neither envied the headache nor the muscle cramps the blond god would be suffering in the morning, so they were helping each other to ensure they made it to their respective beds.

“Where… where are you sleeping, anyway?” Tony finally asked as the pair stumbled out of the elevator, the billionaire trying to remember if he had specifically assigned the assassin a room in the mansion. Most of the residents had received rooms as they arrived in what was affectionately dubbed the “Avenger Tower,” transforming guest rooms into personal residences as time wore on. But Tony couldn’t remember Clint ever specifically asking for a room himself.

“Fourth floor, first door,” was Clint’s chipper response as he pushed Tony with his shoulder down the hall, “See here, first on the left.” He stumbled into the door, barely managing to get it open before tumbling inside. “Thanks, man,” he offered as a final farewell, disappearing into the darkened room.

Tony hovered only for a moment outside the door before turning and heading for his own bedroom. He stopped as he hit the elevator, however, staring blanking at the buttons on the door. Where was his room? “Fourth,” Tony muttered to himself, still staring at the buttons. “Right, duh. Fourth floor, first door.”

It was almost precisely six o’clock in the morning and one hour after Clint and Tony had stumbled their way into their own beds that Steve Rogers, known better as Captain America and occasionally as Ye-Olde-Enforcer-of-the-Olde-Fashioned, woke up at his usual time, rolling over to seek the warmth of his boyfriend before deciding to get out of bed. He’d known Tony was going to be up late, so he was pleasantly surprised to find that the bed was warm and there was a strong body next to his. Steve didn’t even bother opening his eyes as he pulled Tony’s body a little closer and took a deep breath as he buried his face blissfully into the back of the other’s neck. There wasn’t any reason to, anyway. It was a calm morning so far, and Tony was never one to get up early if he didn’t have to. Steve didn’t mind occasionally indulging in a few more hours in the bed, knowing his boyfriend would undoubtedly ask for them.

“Smell good,” Steve mumbled into the hair in front of him, brushing his nose against the short strands on the back of Tony’s neck and inhaling deeply. “Glad you decided to come to bed instead of the lab.” It was, after all, an unusual occurrence that Tony ever chose to come to bed over going to his lab, especially if he knew Steve was going to be asleep already. Steve had started to suspect the man came to bed only to harass him during his own morning ritual, but he supposed even a little altering of Tony’s schedule for his sake was something he shouldn’t complain about. Still, mornings like those usually ended up with Tony streaking grease and motor oil all over their bed (not to mention the other oils that might later cover the sheets), leaving the room smelling more like a workshop than a bedroom. Steve only sort of minded that part, and really kind of preferred the sweat-and-grease smell over Tony’s usual colognes. It couldn’t stop him from occasionally giving the billionaire a hard time.

To Clint’s credit, he was absolutely 100% sound asleep until there were suddenly muscular, masculine arms wrapped around him. At this point, any semblance of a residual drunken haze vanished and Clint’s eyes flew open. He stared at the wall ahead of him, his eyes wide and mostly unseeing as he tried to figure out his situation. He remembered the fight with whatever villain he couldn’t remember the name of, he remembered the party afterwards that Coulson had very graciously and surprisingly prepared. He even remembered the after party that he and Tony and Thor had thrown themselves.

Well, that might explain the manly embrace in which he found himself. It couldn’t be Thor because the Norse god slash alien slash manbeast was passed out on the sofa in the common space, and Clint could remember that part. It could, however, definitely be Tony Stark. He took a moment to try to decide how he felt about that. It wasn’t such a terrible idea, although Clint knew it was still a pretty big mistake. It had taken him years to get where he was now, and he had been working so hard not to upset anything. He hoped this wasn’t too much of a setback.

The man behind him finally spoke and if it was possible, Clint’s eyes grew wider. That was most definitely  _not_  the voice of Tony “playboy” Stark, although the movement behind him made it suddenly abundantly clear that it was definitely a man.

More specifically, one Captain Goddamn America.

“Shit!” Clint nearly shrieked (but it was a manly shriek, or not even a shriek at all if you asked him later), “Shit, fuck, what the – “ And he rolled away from the arms, and right off the side of the bed. Clint hardly felt it, however, choosing instead to scramble around in the blanket he was wrapped in.

“You’re not Tony,” Clint heard, and peered over the edge to find Steve looking back at him, a little bewildered. Steve was now sitting up in the bed, and had the sheets that Clint had not dragged with him to the floor clutched to him in one massive hand.  It didn’t stop Clint from noticing the inappropriate lack of a shirt, and it didn’t stop his traitorous mind from wondering just what was going on beneath the sheets. He really,  _really_  didn’t want to know.

“Of course I’m not, why – “ Clint began, but paused quickly as the thought occurred to him. Steve seemed to realize his own mistake at this point, and flushed scarlet. “No way,” Clint uttered, staring now at the blushing captain before him. “Are you and Tony  _fucking_?” he asked.

Steve only had the chance to blush harder (thus confirming Clint’s suspicions) before muttering something about watching his language and looking away pointedly.

“Holy shit, you are!” Clint let out a laugh and ignored the captain’s warning regarding swear words. He was going to continue, but a girlish scream cut him off and both men turned towards the sound, alarm written on their faces.

The scream actually belonged to Tony despite later failed attempts to pin it on Natasha. Over the few months that he and Steve had been secretly seeing (seeing, dating, sleeping with, whatever) each other, Tony’s own internal clock had begun to try to fit the relationship as well. Assuming he successfully made it to the bedroom every night – and Tony was beginning to make efforts to do so, at the captain’s request of course – his body would naturally wake up around six in the morning alongside Steve’s, rather than the previous one or two in the afternoon. Tony had even trained himself to be ready to thwart Steve’s plans for a morning workout with something much, much better. Tony had even tried calling it their own version of a morning routine, although the idea had been abruptly dropped when he caught Steve actually counting reps in their thrusts. It had taken a day of lectures (sexy lectures, with lots of hands-on learning) and a PowerPoint (okay, even the PowerPoint might have been sexy) to explain all the levels of  _wrong_  that had been.

But that was beside the point. The point was that Steve did usually give in, at least for a quickie or something, and today didn’t seem any different. Tony’s body jerked awake right at six, and he smirked triumphantly as he rolled into his boyfriend to begin his efforts for the day.

Tony’s face met a mass of hair as he rolled but he thought little of it in the dim light of the morning. Steve was _totally_  a snuggler, and liked to bury himself into Tony’s embrace and the comforters more than he liked to admit. Tony didn’t mind being the big spoon, and that was no different this morning. He pressed himself closer, placing a silly kiss on a soft shoulder and running his hand down a familiar thigh.

Only it wasn’t very familiar, now that he felt the bare skin down there.

“Stevie,” he mumbled into the shoulder groggily and running his hands back up the body next to him, “You’ve gotten kind of soft.” He reached around to give Steve’s pecks a playful squeeze to go with the accusation, but halted as soon as he arrived at the other man’s chest.

Not even in his wildest dreams would he ever imagine Steve with a nice pair of plush, plump breasts.

Okay, maybe in some of his wildest dreams, but this was definitely not one of those. Tony pulled back slowly and cautiously, his eyes narrowing as he tried to assess his situation. Who –

“JARVIS, lights!” Tony barked as movement in the bed toppled him farther from his bedmate, his mood rapidly sobering. As the lights came on, Tony felt himself go pale. Staring down at him from her bow upright position was one Natasha Romanoff. Really, glaring at him was a more appropriate term for the team’s own Black Widow, or even  _murdering him with her eyes_  because surely,  _surely_  she wouldn’t  _actually_  try to murder him.

Except knowing Black Widow, she probably would, and sure enough her next move was to go directly for his throat. Tony did the only reasonable thing, really, by screaming like a girl and using the distraction to high-tail it out of there.

Steve threw back his comforter as soon as he registered the scream and stood up from the bed. Clint thanked whatever gods were out there (and resolved to buy Thor a drink later) that the star-spangled man in front of him was in fact wearing pajama bottoms under that sheet he had been using. Clint begrudgingly stood to follow the captain towards whatever perceived danger they had heard, but he definitely decided this topic was going to have to come up later.

Clint didn’t have to wait long, because before either man could really get out the door, it had opened and Tony had come barreling in, throwing himself behind Steve and looking like he was being chased by the Hulk. “Steve,” Tony panted, and he grasped Steve by the hips and physically put the man in front of him as he cowered on the bed, looking around wildly, “Steve, she’s in the vents and I think I’m going to die and I also think I might have pissed myself.”

Clint barked out another laugh before getting control of himself, and looked at Steve’s incredulous face.  The taller blond gently removed Tony’s hands from his body and turned to look at the billionaire. “Tony, what are you talking about?” the man asked calmly, indiscreetly ignoring his boyfriend’s – Clint couldn’t help but let out another snort – panicked pleas and acting as slowly as he could.

Tony opened his mouth to let out another desperate request, but the door flew back open, twisting its hinges and revealing a clearly livid Natasha. Clint crossed his arms as he realized this was the source of Tony’s fear. “She’s not in the vents, dude,” Clint interrupted, nodding towards Natasha as she stomped into the room.

“Stark,” she seethed, and Tony let out a dramatic whimper and buried himself further behind Steve, “Stark, you have  _five seconds_  to explain yourself.”

“ _What_  is going on here?” Steve asked, looking pointedly to Tony behind him while still trying to protect the man from the deadly vibes rolling off Natasha. Clint also found himself curious, and he looked at the woman in the doorway, hoping for an explanation himself.

“In my defense,” Tony finally said, standing up and brushing himself off now that he was confident he had the protection of Captain America, “You both have very nice chests, and it was completely a mistake.”

Natasha let out an uncharacteristic growl while Steve just continued to look confused. He looked from Tony to Natasha a few times, still trying to figure out what might have happened, when it registered with Clint.

“No way,” he said again, “No way. No fucking way. You get to grope my girl and I get your boyfriend’s meat stick poking me in the ass?” he asked incredulously, looking to Tony for confirmation. Steve’s face returned to its previous state of cherry tomato red, but Tony’s eyes sparkled like it was his birthday.

“That’s what you were doing in here!” he shouted, looking considerably less concerned about his own safety now that he had this new revelation.

“Care to tell  _me_  what you’re doing in here, Barton?” Natasha added, and Clint felt like all murderous intent might have been surreptitiously dumped on him. He held up his hands, shaking his head because honestly, he had no clue what he was doing here.

“It’s beyond me, Tash,” he offered quickly but weakly, “I don’t even remember coming to bed.” This was mostly true, because all he could remember was the meandering stagger they’d made down the hall last night and then crashing into a bed. Clint was even still wearing the outfit he’d changed into after the battle, and he gestured to that to help his point. Natasha eyes him suspiciously, but seemed to take the excuse at face value.

“Can somebody  _please_  explain to me what’s going on?” Steve finally asked loudly, and though he was still blushing, he had crossed his arms irritably. Tony stood up fully beside him and also crossed his arms, albeit much more comfortably.

“Barton’s bitter,” he explained, “Because we dumped off in the wrong rooms last night and he missed out on the grabby fest. You’re definite missing out on this end, buddy.” Tony looked amusedly at Clint and patted Steve’s behind for good measure, ignoring the captain as he tried to shy away, still heavily blushing. “Although I have to admit, Nat’s a nice catch too.”

“Tony!” Steve admonished at the same time that Natasha shouted, “Don’t call me Nat, Stark!” and the two of them glared at Tony hotly. He shrank back against his bed, this time holding up his own hands in a peaceful gesture.

“And how, pray tell, did you end up in the wrong room last night?” Steve asked wearily when the tension in the room had calmed down, and he placed a tired hand against his temple to try to ease the growing frustration. Clint crossed his arms back and shuffled his feet while Tony only offered a shrug.

“Clint gave me directions to his room, and I must have mixed them up,” he offered as a suggestion. “I didn’t realize he was shacking up with Black Widow.”

“Yeah, well,” Clint countered, “It was not really supposed to be common knowledge.” As he said this, Natasha approached him, most of the previous anger expelled, and placed a hand on his forearm. He grasped it with his nearest hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Natasha’s face was slowly melting back into her usual indifferent expression, and it helped to calm Clint’s slowly growing anxiety about their teammates finding out about the relationship. “If I had known you were going to drop me off with your own boyfriend, I would have just crawled my own way through the vents.”

“Hey, we were supposed to be on the down low too,” Tony countered, “And I still don’t see how you’re missing out here.” He placed a hand on Steve’s bicep possessively, but the blond just took it and pulled Tony slightly sideways to face him.

“I don’t think there’s any real harm done here,” he suggested quietly, and looked sharply at Clint and Natasha when they both opened their mouths to protest. “We just had a misunderstanding this morning that leads to a very valuable lesson, wouldn’t you agree?” He waited for three nods before continuing. “I also think Clint and Natasha are going to be very respectful of our desire to keep this quiet, and we are going to be respectful of theirs, aren’t we?” It was hard to imagine something like a threat coming out of Steve’s mouth, but really the firm tone couldn’t be anything else. Clint exchanged a look with Natasha before the two of them nodded.

“We’re great at keeping quiet,” Natasha said with a smirk.

“Yeah, secret’s safe with us,” Clint added, and even gave the scout’s honor sign. The two of them had already known as soon as the situation came to light that they weren’t going to be the ones to talk to the others, and they were both only too happy to have Steve’s support in the matter

“Oh come on, Stevie, this is too good to just let it go – “ Tony began, but he eventually also picked up on the underlying threat and shut up quickly. Clint had to admit he was impressed with the captain’s ability to shut the man up.

“Fine,” Tony finally pouted, even going so far as to cross his arms and stick out his bottom lip at Steve, who looked all but amused. “Nobody finds out about this.”

“And the others never find out about this morning, either,” Steve added, still trying to be forceful with his boyfriend, but it was simply not to be.

“What about this morning, my brothers?!” the four heard, and all of them turned with dread to the doorway, still standing ajar. There, in all their sleepy glory, stood the rest of the house, with Thor’s all too eager face leading the way. Tony’s expression suddenly lit up.


End file.
